


we both coincide (when the world's wasting time)

by fineosaur



Series: how big, how blue, how beautiful [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emphasis On Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post-Break Up, Rickon POV, Sexual Tension, and then, in which rickon fucks up CONSTANTLY, the boy's a fuck up folks, this is like PURE relationship angst theres so much of it im not even gonna apologise, this is slutty!, this started as a 5 + 1 thing but now there's 8 chapters written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineosaur/pseuds/fineosaur
Summary: over the years Rickon and Lyanna cross paths and are reminded of the magnetic pull between the two of them.
Relationships: Lyanna Mormont/Rickon Stark
Series: how big, how blue, how beautiful [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887967
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yanak324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanak324/gifts).



> for my dearest yana,  
> i love you truly and entirely, this is all yours, angst and smut cranked to the highest degree. i hope this shows you how much you mean to me. i don't know what i'd do without your support in every facet of my life (and im glad I'll never find out). 
> 
> fic title from: coincide - catfish and the bottlemen  
> 

####  _CHAPTER ONE: WHAT KIND OF MAN LOVES LIKE THIS?_

####  _WHAT KIND OF MAN - FLORENCE + THE MACHINE_

The moon is already out when he still finds himself at her side. She’s solid and warm in his embrace, swaying lazily with him to the strumming harp and the melodic voice that sing the words that seem to weave their way in his head, taking root as he tries to focus on just being there with her. 

It’s been a few days of line ups and the same never-ending touches between them as they take in the music till the sun burnishes the sky with its hazy colours, slowly bleeding into a scattered navy that inevitably swallows the sky. 

Now, on the last day of the Ashemark music festival, he finds it hard to come to terms with the week ending. Not when it’s been the first week in forever since they haven’t had a single argument. Everything’s been conveniently shelved that week, so as to grant them both some well-deserved peace in each other’s company. And not to mention their friends who’ve had more than enough of their drama. 

With Lyanna fitted perfectly in his arms, he tries not to overthink things, but it’s inescapable. No matter how right it feels, the itch to get away is there too. 

He’s known her his whole life really. He doesn’t remember a point in life when she wasn’t at his side, be it as children where it was reluctantly being put together when their parents would meet for work, or middle school when he would try to forget that she seemed to be the only thing on his mind, even high school when she finally kissed him and he knew why he couldn’t get rid of her from the back of his eyes. 

“Rickon?” 

Rickon looks down at her, realising he’s been in his head for far too long again. Her voice is soft, one he much prefers than the one singing rather gracefully to the crowd. 

“Yeah?” He answers, pulling her closer as her arms wind around his neck. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” Lyanna says with her hand cupping his jaw. 

Rickon almost forgets everything that had been flooding his mind for the last few minutes and focuses on her, and the way she pulls him aside to the closest place they can be alone, under a canopy of trees which absorb most of the noise that the other people around them were adding. 

He finds his back pressed to a tree when they’re well out of view. It brings a smile to his face almost immediately when he feels her palm flat against his chest. 

“What’s wrong?”

Her question makes his smile falter, but he doesn’t want her to know he’s been second-guessing their relationship like he has been for the last year. There are times, like when she kisses him with a smile on her lips, that he remembers the days when everything felt light when the “belong together” comments from various family members were brushed off laughingly when it wasn’t dauntingly obvious that it meant forever. 

“Why would anything be wrong?” He answers instead, “I’m with you.” 

He leans down to kiss her, knowing her lips always did the best job at making him forget the rest of the world, and its troubles, even if he had to woefully accept that she seemed to be the problem. Maybe it was him that was the problem. 

His lips meet hers readily, though it takes her a moment to relax in his arms, it’s clear that Lyanna wants to pry further but once again shelves whatever it was. Her arms wrap around his middle as he leans into her, pushing back off the tree and pinning her there instead. 

Lyanna laughs as she pulls him in closer again, she takes a moment to push his hair back, out of his forehead. He can’t tell what’s on her mind as she stares at him, but her thoughts are considerably better than his, given the smile that tugs at her lips. 

He finds himself being pulled to her once again, and he lets himself smile against her lips, even if he does swallow back whatever guilt he seems to feel. Lyanna takes his hand in hers, slowly guiding it over her arse, to squeeze through her skirt. 

Rickon allows himself to want her, his hands finally moving of their own accord. He pulls his lips away so that he can bite her lower lip, passing his tongue over where he nipped her. Lyanna moans with his movements, tipping her head back to the tree as his hand goes under her skirt, skidding over her skin despite the fishnets she wears. 

“Lets go to your car,” Lyanna breathes, gripping his loose shirt, fingers going to play with the unopened buttons. 

“In a minute,” he kisses her on the side of her nose. His hands pull at her fishnets, trying to find the waistband beneath her skirt. 

She doesn’t argue, instead, she bites her lip and lets his hand go into her knickers as well. Rickon’s not surprised to see that she’s already slick and ready for him and the moans she swallows back do nothing to help how hard he becomes in his jeans. 

“We’ll go soon, Lee,” Rickon whispers, leaning into the crook of her neck to pepper her skin with his lips. 

He can’t hold back his groan as he slips his finger into her. Lyanna tugs him up to kiss her again, muffled moans on his lips before he has to pull away, settling for resting his forehead against hers. 

Rickon slides his finger out of her, circling her clit and feeling her breath on his face. His whole body is put on hold when she’s like this, clinging onto him and moaning at his touch. It’s like she’s all that matters, even as her hand slips into his half-opened shirt, unwinding him further as it wanders his skin. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

Lyanna meets his eyes, putting her fingers over his lips and smiling at him, “Use your fingers,” she tells him, holding onto the wrist that disappears under her skirt. 

* * *

_He doesn’t know how it started this time. But he does remember not-so-accidentally throwing a mug across the room at one of her jibes. It was maybe an off-hand comment that started it. “Oh, you’re actually staying tonight?” Said with a laugh, and he’s known her long enough to know a laugh like that had no humour behind it. And it stings just like intended._

_Rickon feels the burning on his skin from his anger. Given how loudly each of them counters one another, he knows they’re well into their dispute. It doesn’t matter that Lyanna chooses to enflame whatever fire she’s ignited in him since the first words left her lips, as soon as the kettle whistled. But she’s matching his vigour in every way she knows how to. For starters, her mug is lying in shards beside his on her kitchen floor._

_“If you don’t want me to stay, just fuckin’ say it,” he screams as he’s already moving straight for the door._

_He doesn’t bother looking for where his socks have gone up to, just hopping on one foot as he struggles to slip his shoes on._

_“You didn’t even wait for me to answer and you’re already leaving,” Lyanna yells back, tugging on his shirt, almost enough for him to lose his balance._

_“What am I meant to do now, huh?” Rickon asks, giving up with his shoe in his hand, “I’m meant to just sit around here, unwanted, after it shocks you that I’m spending the night?”_

_He’s seething as she stares back at him with crossed arms. At times like this he wants to shake her, shake out all the thoughts she holds back from him, what it is in her mind that makes her decide it’s not worth it to fight back anymore._

_“Say something already!” Rickon shouts. He drops his shoe and takes the sides of her head in his palms, “Fuck— just tell me what it is.”_

_Lyanna holds onto his wrists, her eyes flutter shut for a moment and she leans into his hands. The anger in him turns into something different and potentially worse, but the way her chest rises and falls under one of his t-shirts, twists some kind of knot in him, hempen rope of guilt, indignation, grief and lust, all leaving him dizzy in her presence._

_It’s not hard for her to pull him into a kiss this way. And it’s not surprising how delirious it makes him when she fists his shirt and corners herself with her back into the wall._

_“Fuck me, and I’ll tell you,” she breathes with her lips barely an inch from his._

_She doesn’t even give him a moment to consider hesitation, not when she pulls off her t-shirt and in turn tosses her knickers to the side. There’s never any reluctance anyway, not when she’s pressed, naked, between him and the cold wall._

_Lyanna’s lips are on his again. His bottom lip sucked between hers as she doesn’t even try to be gentle. Rickon doesn’t find it in him to complain, not when he enjoys being pulled apart by her and the hands that pull his shirt off, leaving a trail of heat along his bare torso._

_“Do you want to fuck or fight?”_

_Her fingers go down to unbutton his jeans, “Both,” she says raspily in tandem with lowering his zipper._

_With her hands on him, he bites his lips, staring down between their bodies. Rickon doesn’t need coaxing to know where his hands should be, and so his fingers take their place deep inside her, the heat of her cunt and sound of her moan sending him through a lust-filled haze._

_Lyanna takes his hand off of her abruptly, “I said fuck me,” she states with a lazy smile, pure fervour in her darkened brown eyes._

_“You’re impatient,” he tells her, the smile that crosses his face matches the one of mischief on her face. And with a slick hand, he hitches her thigh up in his grasp. Given her impatience, Rickon takes his time, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit, groaning as he does. “It’s both hot and infuriating.” He says through gritted teeth, slamming into her with a swift thrust._

_He sinks so deep inside her, so suddenly, he’s sure his eyes roll to the back of his head, and her throaty gasp does nothing for his sanity. Rickon tightens his grip on her thigh, trying to hold her up higher to build some kind of pace along with her._

_“You don’t get to say that—“ she swallows, wrapping her arms around his neck._

_Rickon manages to get both her legs around his waist, holding her up against the wall. Her ankles lock behind his back and he traces up her leg, letting his hand wander the surfaces he knows all too well._

_“Say what?”_

_“That I infuriate you… you infuriate me.”_

_Rickon laughs with his brows furrowed as he’s thrusting into her, harder. “You don’t get to chose that,” he tells her, biting into her neck._

_She’s silent again, other than sharp moans, Lyanna lets out nothing._

_“Fuck— you’re tight,” he breathes against her skin, not caring if she’s heard or not._

_“But I can,” Lyanna counters. Her nails graze against his body, on his scalp as she tugs his hair, on his back as he snaps into her, “I can. I can. And do you know why?”_

_“Why?” He asks without skipping a beat. In the moment, he thinks this is one of their things, where she goads him into doing something filthy that he doesn’t even need any goading into, but he doesn’t expect her abrupt tone afterward._

_“Look at me.”_

_Rickon’s eyes meet hers and her hand cups his face gently, it’s the most gentle she’s been with him all night. It makes him falter for just a moment._

_“Come on, keep going,” she says, passing her thumb over his lips._

_Why his heart sinks— he doesn’t know, but it seems like maybe it’s just an instinct now, his gut just knows where his heart belongs now, despite whatever confusion racks his brains relentlessly these last few months._

_“Tell me, Lee,” he begs, pressing his forehead into hers. His pace slows down but it doesn’t make the feeling of her any less engulfing._

_“I don’t know what you want anymore,” Lyanna begins. Her hand moves to the nape of his neck, “I used to know because it used to be me.”_

_It strikes him that he doesn’t know what he wants either. But he does want her, he at least thinks so. Because it’s not someone else that has him so stuck, it’s the allure of being completely unattached that compels him so._

_Perhaps he does know what he wants, but he doesn’t know himself without her at his side and the prospect frightens him. The prospect of ‘forever’ with her scares him too though._

_“I don’t even know if you love me anymore. I can’t feel it, I can’t see it. I don’t see it in your eyes anymore. The only time I see it is when you fuck me and I don’t even know if that’s the same.”_

_He doesn’t know how he’s still able to stand there, buried deep inside her, but his speechlessness makes it clear how he does. Rickon doesn’t look away from her eyes, trying to make sense of the words she had told him, even as her fingers trail up the back of his neck, to his hair, he wonders if any of it is real or just a bad dream._

_Lyanna takes his hand off the wall behind her and brings it over her breast, “Since I can’t feel it here,” she guides him down to where they’re joined, “show me you love me here.”_

_It’s unclear how much time passes between setting her back onto the ground abruptly, getting his pants up, and stumbling into the bathroom. But he’s aware of how fast his heart beats, with heavy breaths like his chest, is close to splitting open, Rickon refuses to look at himself in the mirror, only staring at the stream of water running out of the tap._

_He’s convincing himself not a word of what she says is true, but he’s uncertain, not when he’s washing his face with cold water for the fourth time. No, but he loves her, he knows it. It still consumes him and holds him back. When was he ever one to even acquiesce being held back?_

_Rickon lets himself breathe for a while longer, staring at the running water for the Gods know how long. When he’s able to meet his own eyes through the mirror, he notices the red-rimmed eyes that bring colour to his ashen face._

_He finds his shirt on the living room floor before he finds her. He can’t tell her she went too far, because they’d been fighting anyway, it almost always goes too far, just never this far, not yet. But each time, they seem to keep teetering closer to that edge._

_“You’re not staying?” Lyanna asks from where she’s sat on the sofa._

_She’s back in the t-shirt she was in earlier, but her legs are covered from his view with a blanket this time. Her eyes are more red than his seem to be. He can’t even respond to her question._

_“So, I’m right then?” She questions once more, her voice is strained both times._

_She’s not right, not entirely. Maybe it’s true that it’s hard to decipher what he wants these days, but he can’t not love her, he’s just not able to show it._

_“Rickon?”_

_“I have to leave,” he responds, patting down his pockets for his car keys, only to hear her playing with them._

_Rickon watches her from where he stands by the door. Lyanna stares down at the keys in her hands, she wordlessly glances at him in triumph, but it only lasts a second. As he’s walking towards her, she stands up to her knees on the sofa and allows herself to falter with her hand pressed against his chest._

_“I don’t want to fight,” she tells him quietly._

_He doesn’t meet her gaze, even when her palms rub up his chest. Lyanna’s hand comes to his cheek to force him to look at her this time, no sharp ‘look at me’, no glares, just what he can describe as melancholy._

_“Lee,” he counters, it’s an answer to everything, showing he’s tired, fed up, hurt, guilty, but even if it’s the answer he gives, she never lets him off so easy._

_“I don’t want to be right this time,” Lyanna pleads with his jaw in her hand._

_Rickon sighs, giving in to her, as he always seems to be, at her mercy. His hands go up her arms, holding her steady as he brings his forehead to lean against her head._

_“You aren’t,” he tells her softly. He feels calm, only because of her hands on him, even if the keys dig into his chest slightly, he finds comfort in the way her palm hovers over his heart, he’s always found comfort in it. “Not at all.” Rickon shakes his head against hers._

_“I don’t want you to leave me.”_

_“I won’t.”_

_He knows he will, if not that night, he feels it coming, like birds with a storm, Rickon feels it brewing. Even then, he wraps his arms around her and lowers himself onto the sofa, holding her tightly against him until the weight of their argument no longer left them stiff._

* * *

They find their way to his car, secluded in a bubble of their own laughter. Despite the dread that doesn’t seem to relent its hold on him, he still manages to smile back at her when she grins at him. Before he even knows it, she’s in his lap, hand lost in his jeans when she peppers kisses along his jaw. 

He knows she laughs at him when she tries to feign annoyance at the way his fingers go under her skirt and rip her fishnets. Rickon leans forward, catching her laughter on his lips. 

With the way Lyanna kisses him though, he knows she’s too fast for him. It’s more than he can handle with the disquiet that made its home in the pit of his stomach. Maybe she’s always been a couple of steps ahead of him anyway.

Rickon’s hand holds onto one of the headrests, throwing his head back against the seat as he feels sure that his eyes will roll to the back of his head. 

“Lee, slow down,” Rickon manages to tell her. He braces one of his hands on her hip, feeling her still with his words. 

“Are you okay?” Lyanna asks, putting her lips to his throat before pulling away. 

Her fingers go to his hair, pushing it back as she tries to get him to look at her. He’s still tethered to the headrest, finding it hard to reach for her when he feels things he can hardly describe, building up inside him. 

Rickon swallows, nodding at her and letting his eyes close when she presses her lips to his. Her fingers trace his face, thumbs swiping over his cheeks before she replaces them with her lips. 

He can see the worried look on Lyanna’s face when he gazes back at her. She pries his hand off the headrest and pulls it to her face, leaving a kiss inside his wrist. 

He lets out a groan when she starts moving her hips against his once more. Cupping her face, Rickon puts his forehead to hers and breathes her in. 

“I love you,” he tells her quietly, somehow the confession seems to twist his heart. 

Lyanna pulls away, eyes wide as she searches his. He doesn’t say a word as she takes her time, silence filled with soft breaths and moans. 

“I love you too, Rickon.”

He swallows her words and reaches for her this time, letting his hands slip under her t-shirt. She smiles at him again, leaning forward to kiss him as she slides his hands up her body. 

Lyanna’s lips move to his neck. She moans by his ear, lifting her top just enough so that it’s over her breasts. He cups them and allows himself to get lost in the feeling of her. 

This is the one thing they’re still good at. Sex. It’s the one mark he doesn’t miss with her. Because after all the years, he thinks he’s at least attuned to her body. 

For everything else though, he seems to fall short.

She’s still in his lap afterward, lying against his chest. He feels the gentle scrape of her nails on his chest as she idly listens to his heartbeat. Lyanna turns to press her lips to his chest before lying on him again. There’s a fuzzy kind of tension between them, one that has no explanation, it’s white noise on a tv, he wonders if it’s only him who feels it. 

Rickon can’t help but feel content in the most uncomfortable way. Her in his arms though, wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. If anything he wants to stay there with her stuck in this moment, where nothing else feels real, just them two. 

“I’ve missed you,” Lyanna admits, pressing her lips to his chest again and holding him tighter. 

“I’ve been right here,” he laughs. They had spent the week together, before then as well, he never goes over a day or two without seeing her, not unless they had fought before then. 

“I miss you when you’re with me,” she explains, holding one of the buttons on his opened shirt between her fingers. “It never feels like you’re there. It feels like you want to be anywhere other than with me.” Lyanna lifts herself to meet his eyes. Her thumb traces his lips when he’s ready to counter her. “This week was good… but I’m scared, Rickon.” 

“Scared of what?”

“Scared of you,” Lyanna puts her palm to his chest and meets his shocked expression. He feels his heartbeat in his ears, thrumming heartstrings wrapping around his vocal cords. “This week was good but I know it’s not going to last and it scares me and I know I’m ruining the moment here but—“ she cut herself off to meet his gaze, “why don’t you talk to me anymore? We never used to keep things from one another… and now you’re in your head so long I feel like you’re not even there.” 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you…” Rickon trails off, tempering his anger but he’s never done a good job at that. “What am I supposed to tell you when you tell me you’re scared of me. What do you expect me to do?” 

“Leave me.”

* * *

Despite how hard his rebellion fought against it, he had eventually succumbed to loving her. And all the predictability weighed on him wearily, making him crave freedom like a washed-up cigarette. 

That week was a good one, it’s the weeks that followed that fills him with dread and avoidance. Because all at once he was doing everything he did and did not want. 

It starts, of course, with dodging all her calls and when it inevitably comes time to see her again, he knows it was the last time. 

He waits a moment before he’s able to bring his fist to the door. But he gets through with it with a deep breath, knocking thrice against the wooden door. Lyanna’s voice calls out to him, telling him the door is unlocked. 

Rickon steps through the threshold, though he isn’t sure what he expects to see, he certainly doesn’t expect to be met with cardboard boxes strewn messily across the floor and Lyanna sat on the one-seater sofa with a book in her hand. 

It’s a disquieting sensation that fills him at the sight. Her indifference at his entrance leaves him piqued at what awaits him when she finally chooses to draw her attention towards him. 

He stops in his tracks, rooted right by the mess, right behind where she’s sitting. She still doesn’t turn, and he can’t tell if she’s actually able to read when the tension in the room stifles his breathing. 

“What’s going on, Lee?” 

It’s the first time Lyanna takes notice of him since he’s entered her flat. Her book is limp in her hand as she turns to face him, with an unreadable expression as she watches him crouch to go through a box filled to the brim with his things. At least, so far it’s all he sees as he rifles through clothes and stupid things he doesn’t even remember leaving there; an old watch he lost in high school, photo frames with pictures of the two of them, an old pair of sunglasses, even socks. 

“Are you trying to prove something here?” 

Lyanna doesn’t reply him just then either, she sets her book down and stares back at him longer as his indignation bubbles at the sight of more pieces of himself that have been removed from her living space. 

“Lee?” 

“Those are all your things.” 

He doesn’t know if he can even describe her tone when there really is none at all. She’s completely vacant, it’s not something he wants to see, no, he much prefers the anger when they’re arguing, because then there’s something to feed off of, here, he’s met at a stalemate. 

“I can see that. Why are they here?” He snaps, standing as he pulls his clothes out of the box. 

Rickon knows why he’s unsure on whether he wants to accept what’s really going on. She quickly gets up from the sofa when she sees him heading to her room, leaving a trail of clothes as he walks in big strides. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lyanna asks, her voice wavers, finally giving him the sign of emotion he was waiting for. 

He drops the clothes on the bed when he stares back at her, he sees her distress. It’s his turn to ignore her, he throws open the doors to her wardrobe, not caring if he’s making a mess when he’s shoving his clothes back where he can fit them, hanging one of his shirts before she stops him.

“I packed those for a reason, I don’t want you coming back here,” she says abruptly with her palm flat against his chest. 

Rickon has always known that he’s able to overpower her, but there’s always something in the way she touches him which completely sets him at her will. 

“We’re dating— why wouldn’t I come back here?” He asks her half-hoping to not get an answer because whilst his indecision has been throwing him from place to place, he still expects to still turn to her when he wants. 

“You’ve ignored me fully, for _over a_ _week_ ,” Lyanna explains tiredly. 

It’s been verging to this since he’s gotten there. Because in truth, he _has_ ignored her for over a week, every phone call and text had fallen on metaphoric deaf ears. But today’s simple “come over.” text triggered an impulse and he found himself driving to her place minutes after. Again, he wasn’t expecting this. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighs, walking closer to her. 

Her hair is tied back messily, like all those times when she ties a ponytail and it inevitably falls lower considering how thick her hair is. He thinks he’s sorry, given the way his heart feels heavy as he’s apologising. The nearer he gets to her, the more he realises what he’s been doing. Why was his guilt suddenly tethered to how easily he could see the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. 

Lyanna initially pulls away from him when he reaches for her, folding her arm away from his grasp. 

“This is stupid. I was being stupid. I was just—“ 

She interrupts him, this time her wide, brown eyes meet his wandering blue ones with sincerity, “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Rickon. I’m so fed up with this.” She shrugs her shoulders as her arms cross tighter against her chest. 

He knows what she’s trying to get at, but he’s busy staring at how her stray black hairs curl against her smooth neck. It begins to dawn on him that even with all their arguments it hasn’t ever gotten this far.

“This is stupid, Lee,” he repeats, because there’s really not another word he can quite use to describe what’s going on other than ridiculous. It’s too out of the realm of possibility to him, he hasn’t actually wondered what would happen if either of them actually pushed too far. It’s clear that he’s finally pushed too far.

She walks past him and throws his things back onto the bed, scooping everything up and moving back to the living room. Before he can put another word in, Lyanna’s dumping his things back into the box. 

“I’m done with this— with worrying everyday if something happened, if I did something wrong to drive you away for a week. Do you think I want to pick apart every single thing I’ve said and done around you, questioning what I did?” Lyanna tells him breathlessly. Her eyes are wide as she awaits his answer, but how is he meant to respond to something like that? 

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be about you, does it?” 

“You ignored only me though, so it must be. Fuck— I was worried about you and I pathetically asked Brax to check on you, only to find out that you’re out for drinks with him. Am I _not_ supposed to take that personally?” 

He’s taken aback, because Brax never mentioned any of it, though he remembers the one Friday he had gone out with him and Monty.

“I’m here now, let’s forget it, okay? This is one of our fights, we’ll get over it.” 

“No, we won’t. I’m not going to agonise and worry myself sick over you, not when you have no decency to even tell me that you’re not up for being around me. At least let me know so I can prepare myself for it. Or just go ahead and break up with me already.” 

“You’re already doing it for me, aren’t you?” 

“Were you with someone?” 

“What are you implying?” 

“I’m asking you if while I was here worrying over your selfish, inconsiderate arse, were you fucking someone else?” 

“Don’t make me sick, Lee, do you know me as someone to do something like that?” He asks, his face pulled in a grimace as he flicks his nails.

It’s nauseating to think that the thought has crossed his mind, when he’s wondering whether he could actually bring himself to break up with her. But what she’s doing right now, it’s supposed to be the easy way out, right? 

“You didn’t say no,” she notes, walking closer to him. 

Her strides alone are intimidating, but the fury lacing her quiet voice is a different kind of chill. He realises she’s serious. 

“I don’t even think I know you anymore. I don’t know me anymore.” 

Rickon realises that his heart is pounding in his chest when she stops because when her palm settles on his chest, he finally lets a breath out and stares down at her. He swallows as he watches her eyes caught on the way his own hand comes over hers. 

“I was having a bad week. Nothing happened. I just needed to breathe.” 

His statement is true, but it truly lacks conviction, he knows this with the way she stares up at him, looking completely dejected by his statement. 

“I’m here. That’s how it goes, doesn’t it? We yell a bit and then we go back to being us?” 

“I don’t want to be someone you need a breather from… that shouldn’t be how it works,” she tells him, and though her words must mean she’s pulling away from him, she leans closer.

“It’s not like that,” he says, but it is, isn’t it? Lyanna may not be the root of the problem but their relationship weighs heavy on him like a sudden parry with mortality. 

He leans down to her, his lips brush against hers and she lets him. Lyanna’s lips mould perfectly against his, but she’s there and gone too fast. This isn’t one of those times where they can lose themselves in one of their stomach-lurching kisses. Reality still watches them eagerly. 

“I can’t do this anymore, I’m tired. I packed all your things, please just take them and go,” she says, every syllable is said with exhaustion. 

He takes a step back, ready to rebuke her, “No,” he laughs it off, hoping to counteract her candour. 

She crosses her arms over her chest again, “Leave the necklace as well.” His eyes draw down to his chest, his heart falls.

Most days he forgets the ring that hangs from a necklace around his neck. He forgets the weight it holds, so it doesn’t quite register in his head when he realises he has to return it to her, even if he looks somewhat naked without it on. 

“Lee… you can’t— you’re still in my t-shirt, this is ridiculous,” he says it jokingly, because he doesn’t expect her to take it off and throw it at him. 

Her hair is messier now, ponytail fallen further, her eyes glisten as she crosses her arms over her chest, this time in an effort to hide her nudity as if it’s nothing he hasn’t seen and completely venerated. He’s caught the t-shirt easily and the instinct to bring it to his nose to breathe in her smell is there, but it’s not the right time for it. 

He struggles to unclasp the silver necklace with shaky hands, but when he does, setting it on the table, he notices how unsteady his hands have become. Rickon immediately draws his hand into a fist when he sees her staring, holding it to his side in hopes that she doesn’t notice. 

“Get. Out.” 

Standing still, he doesn’t listen, refuses to budge. 

She opens the door wide before walking towards him, lifting the cardboard box and tossing it out the door. Lyanna looks back to him with narrowed eyes, “Get out!” Her scream snaps him out of the daze that even the sound of breaking glass within the box didn’t do. 

He’s out the door, picking up the things that have fallen when she slams the door. Rickon stops what he’s doing, immediately trying to opened a door that’s quite clearly locked. 

“Lee,” he knocks steadily at first, growing louder as his patience slips away. 

He calls out for her louder with no reply. 

“Lyanna!” His anger gets the best of him when he’s throwing fists at the door to get her to open up. 

He pulls away, breathless with bruised knuckles when he knows this is different. She’s not going to open and even if she is, it’s not going to be any time soon. 


	2. you’re the only light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a few months after their break-up, Rickon runs into Lyanna at a New Year's party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, emotionally charged sadness for yana, this doesn't even begin to show how thankful i am for you in my life.

####  __

####  _CHAPTER TWO: YOU'RE THE ONLY LIGHT_

####  _ONLY IF FOR A NIGHT - FLORENCE + THE MACHINE_

His eyes follow her all night. It’s noticeable, the way she manages to carefully avoid him all night, trying to keep her expression steadfast any time she accidentally meets his eyes. 

She’s in a dress that night. A loose one, but the satin clings to her skin fluidly, dipping at her curves and flowing just below her knees. Rickon tries half-heartedly to approach her, but around all these people, he’s thrown him off completely. 

He’s missed her, really. Four months that have all droned on for far too long, with passing faces who just scratch an itch but never fill whatever void he feels without her. She crosses his mind every day, to a point where it’s almost concerning because it looks like Lyanna wants nothing to do him. 

When he notices her slip away by the fire exit, he stops everything he’s doing to follow her. His half empty champagne flute is immediately put into Sansa’s hand. And any argument his sister puts up against him is shrugged off as he crosses the room. 

Rickon fixes his tie as he takes slow, long strides towards her. Her hair blows softly with the wind from the one window he knows actually opens on this entire floor. Lyanna clearly hears his steps, glancing back with her eyes drawn to the floor. 

His mind blanks when he finally stands right behind her. Eyes catch on the smooth canvas of her back, the ties of her dress criss-cross across over her lower back, his fingers itch to line the pattern until he’s close enough to pull them loose. 

“Bit cold here, isn’t it?” He starts. He can see the smile that tugs slightly at her lips when she pulls her arms tighter around herself. 

The moonlight is particularly bright, doing its best to highlight every feature on her face that he loves, but there really isn’t anything about her that he isn’t completely reeled in by. 

Rickon’s eyes linger on the way her freckles dust her nose, the way her dark brows frame her eyes which shine brighter than even the full moon, darker in every way but pools of honey he wants to drown in nevertheless. 

“I came here for air,” she replies pointedly. It’s clear that him following her wasn’t part of the equation.

“You’re getting it, aren’t you?” He retorts, allowing his finger to push back the one strand of hair that’s being whipped by the cool breeze every time it picks up. 

“Not anymore.” 

“Well, you didn’t say ‘hi’,” he explains. Rickon hopes she can hear the mirth in his voice and not the longing. 

Lyanna finally looks up at him over her shoulder, her tight-lipped smile is anything but genuine, “So you thought you’d come do it yourself?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

She scoffs, leaning further against the tall window. The wind picks up again for a moment, making him catch a whiff of the perfume she’s wearing, one he knows well but never can place the name. 

“I haven’t seen you since—“ 

“I know, yeah, it’s been good.” 

Her abrupt interruption catches him off-guard because it sounds anything but good. Because he’s had better times in his life, it’s a good balm on his ego that she’s doing somewhat miserably without him. It’s really an awful one.

“Has it?” His voice cracks slightly and he curses himself for it. 

She glances back at him again, this time he doesn’t realise that he’s so close to her until he sees the glistening in her eyes, he hopes it’s just the way the moonlight hits her dark eyes. 

Her response is a tug on his tie, pulling him down to meet her lips. Rickon has thought of kissing her all night. It’s been four months since they had left things on a bitter note and yet he still craves her, no matter how much he tries not to. It’s a fact that rings annoyingly and constantly in his mind after just a few months of pissing about. 

He lets his hands trail over her back, pulling her closer when his tongue finally meets hers. He’s just getting used to feeling her again when she pulls away. Her stare is palpable, easily seeing her mind travel a mile a minute. 

Rickon’s still holding her when she pries his hand off her, taking it into her own instead. Lyanna doesn’t give him a moment to even register what she’s doing before she tugs him into the direction of the stairwell. 

Breathlessly taking two stairs at a time, they reach one of the highest floors, where his dad’s office is. He’s dragged her here before many times, when they were much younger and far more giddy on love. For a moment he lets himself think they’re those kids again. 

They’re tangled in each other the moment the door closes behind them. He tries desperately to feel every part of her body, grabbing at her dress as he walks her backward into the sofa. Rickon’s lips are never away from her skin for long, trying to cover every exposed surface as if she’s going to disappear if he relents even for a moment. 

Her fingers tangle in his hair when she pulls him back to her lips. He hovers over her for a moment to see the way her dark hair is fanned against the leather of the sofa, and he finds himself falling again. It’s a freefall, his whole body is completely weightless as he stares at her, but along with the loss of his footing comes the buried fear and apprehension. 

She’s far too tempting to leave unkissed, unloved, unworshipped. Rickon dips his head with his forearm over her head, careful not to lie on her hair. His lips seek hers immediately, fluidly meeting hers with familiarity, as if they never stopped doing this. In all the months he’s been without her, no one has come close to comparing how it feels with her and the Gods wouldn’t even be able to come close to describing how it felt with her. 

Lyanna lets out the sweetest moan, muffled against his lips as she shifts underneath him, positioning just right until he can easily relieve some of the pressure that strains hard in his slacks. 

Her lips are petaled and soft against his, easily pliable as his tongue meets hers once more. Rickon feels her within every part of him, his skin is alight just by being in her presence, his whole body just longing to bury himself deep within her until she’s calling out his name. 

He pulls away, to stare at her again. With her swollen lips and flushed skin, she’s the greatest sight he’s ever seen, or ever will see. Rickon’s heart stutters at how her lips are still puckered and the way her eyes flutter open to meet his. 

“I’ve missed you,” he tells her quietly.

“Please, Rickon. Just don’t talk.”

His heart sinks at the bite in her tone, “Lee…” he tries to soften her but he knows she won’t let him tonight, if not ever. 

“And don’t call me that. Just fuck me, just tonight. I need you just tonight. And then we’ll never do this again.” 

Rickon’s eyes watch her, hoping that his expression doesn’t reflect the way her words hurt him. But he remembers how he has no ground to be hurt; not when he’s the reason they were sent hurtling through the sky. 

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly, swallowing his ache, “can I kiss you?”

Lyanna pulls him down, not bothering to answer with words and kissing him deeply instead, her kiss tugs at his heart, fraying heartstrings coming apart. 

He can’t help but pull away from her, even if he’s only just had a taste of her velvet tongue against his. Though he wants to drink her in like a man parched, he just misses the moments where he’s able to just breathe her in before anything else. But Lyanna’s hands refuse to give him even that as they reach for the buttons of his shirt. 

He lets her have her way, occupying himself by slipping his blazer off and laying it on the back of the sofa. Rickon’s undoing his cuffs when she pulls him back down to her with his tie. He wants to tell her that he misses this too, the way her hands unravel him as her nails graze his chest. 

Lyanna’s lips meet his again rougher than he anticipates, but it’s always still inviting. With his hand balancing him over her, by her head, he’s able to see all of her when he pulls away. He’s able to watch as she lowers the straps of her dress, satin material not leaving much pull for it to fall off her. 

He swallows back his groan at the glimpse of her pebbled breasts, with nipples beaded and tight. Rickon lowers himself immediately, pulling a nipple between his teeth as he listens to her moans. He could easily get off right then, paint her body white, but he doesn’t want anything more than to be with her and watch her fall apart. All his perversions could wait for the night. If he can’t properly use his words, he wants this to be his unwritten apology to her. He’s doubtful that she would ever consider accepting to reconcile. 

Rickon’s fingers replace his mouth over her breast, moving to the other one as she cradles his head with fingers tight on his hair. He flicks the bud with his tongue, circling again before closing his mouth over her. Lyanna arches beneath his touch.

He pulls away, to watch where her skin already reddens at where his teeth have been. It leaves him delirious to think that she’ll be painted with purpled memories of where his mouth has been over her skin for the next week or so. Rickon doesn’t realise how long he’s been staring at her until her words interrupt him. 

“What are you waiting for?”

Her eyes are dark as she reaches down to slip her knickers off, tucking them into the pocket of his slacks. Rickon sits back on his knee, despite the way his trousers stretch uncomfortably and watches her lower her hand between her legs. He groans, not daring to allow his wit to rebuke her jab. 

His one foot is still firmly planted on the marbled floor, it’s really the only thing keeping him grounded, given how his mind is reeling from watching her touch herself. It’s not like he hasn’t seen her do it countless times, it’s that he realises this is likely the last time he gets to deal with her assertiveness 

He lowers himself further down her body, pulling her fingers away, making her watch as he pulls her fingertips into his mouth. Her breathless gasp then is nothing like the one she lets out when his tongue passes down her, settling on her clit. 

Lyanna’s fingers are in his hair within seconds, pulling him closer, urging him on as he sucks on her centre tighter. He pulls away to flick her with the tip of his tongue, sliding up and down on the side she favours. Her heel digs into his back, it presses him on to know he’s unravelling her slowly but surely. 

Her hand eases its grip on him when he reaches up to cup her breast. Lyanna shudders beneath him, putting her hand over his. Rickon wants her completely sated but he wants to prolong the whole experience as well. 

He lifts himself slightly to push two fingers into her, earning him another one of her deliciously throaty moans, an even tighter grip on his hand over her breast as he curls his fingers deep inside her, sucking down on her clit. 

He can tell she’s close, with the way she’s arching beneath him, and growing tighter around his fingers. Rickon chooses this as the time to pull away. Straightening his back as he watches her chest rise and fall. Her hand is buried in her hair as she tries to push it back, her other hand lies on her chest, still cupping the breast he reluctantly pulled away from as well. 

“Rickon, I was close,” she breathes, eyes still closed as he begins undoing his belt. 

Her eyes open with the sound of his watch that accidentally scrapes against his belt buckle. Her legs fall open wider as she arches her back in wait for him. He doesn’t know how he’s ever managed to retain sanity in moments like this with her. He manages at least to lower his zipper and pull himself out of his boxers, allowing himself a moment to stroke himself as she stares up at him. 

She’s already touching herself again when he looks back down at her. He tightens his jaw, aligning himself with her, knowing he can’t expect to last long when he’s already so unravelled by her. 

Lyanna’s fingers are already spreading her folds open for him, it’s completely overwhelming to have her again. His cock is barely half-way inside her when he already needs to steady himself.

Rickon brings his forearm under her arm so that she’s lying on him. Her neck is safely cradled in his hand when he sinks deeper inside her. He has to settle his forehead against hers as he lets out a moan that echoes her own. He’s really falling apart at this point when he realises how perfect she is and how much he’s lost when he let her slip away. 

It’s not that he hasn’t missed being joined with her in this way, it’s that he’s missed this and so much more. He’s missed laughs that he has yet to hear this night, he misses waking up beside her, he misses it all and knows he doesn’t deserve a moment of any of those things again. Not when he’s spent the last few months indulging on anyone that threw themselves at him. At this point, he’s lost count of every face. But in the end, the only one that ever mattered was hers. 

He’s slowly establishing some kind of rhythm when she pulls him tighter with legs winded at his sides.

“Harder, Rickon. Stop acting like you’re going to break me.”

He stares at her for a moment, his movements stop as he tries not to think too hard on the tone she uses with him. 

“What happened to no talking?” He jokes instead, knowing they need it now more than ever. If this is going to be the last time for them, he wants to remember it as a time they had between them, between the real them, Rickon and Lyanna, like they had been since high school. 

“Since when do you ever listen to me?”

With a smile ghosting her lips, he finds the ice that had settled in his core, melt just enough, giving him a window to love her like she deserves, even if he doesn’t deserve it himself. 

As he builds up his pace, Rickon listens to her, driving into her harder. 

“This is good,” he starts, his fingers skid over her soft thigh, “I know I can make you come with the sound of my voice.”

His fingers settle over her clit, for a moment he brings them back to his lips licking his fingertips before beginning to rub her. Rickon knows he’s being cocky here, but this is Lyanna, he knows her. 

Lyanna trembles slightly as he presses down harder, “I hate you,” she tells him shakily. 

“No, you don’t.”

She comes, clenching around him as she holds onto his arm. Her thighs shake at his sides and he stops to watch her, easing on her with his fingers until she comes down. 

“I wish I did hate you.”

Rickon drops his head to hers, taking a few deep breaths. Trying not to think about it when he continues thrusting into her.

* * *

He holds her to his chest for a while after they’re done, and he’s glad that they’re cramped on a small sofa because it gives him an excuse to hold her closer to him. 

Lyanna doesn’t say a word to him but her arm is wound around his middle, holding him tightly as her breaths steady. Rickon drops a kiss to the top of her head, brushing back her hair and resting his cheek on her.

There’s far too much finality to it, in how they are, wordlessly at each other’s sides. It’s never been like this for them, not even towards the end of their relationships where fights ended in sex and that at least ended in laughter. Most of the time anyway. 

“I hope no one comes in,” Rickon says, hoping levity will help brighten both of their moods.

“You didn’t lock the door?” Lyanna looks up to him, moving her hand into his shirt. Her hand is so warm, he lets himself sink into the feeling.

“Nope.” 

Lyanna gasps and flicks his chest before she begins laughing. She buries her face into his chest and the reverberations threaten to push him off the edge. But he laughs along with her, pulling her closer into his chest, even if that’s exactly where he feels it tighten. 

It’s selfish to want her back, especially when he still doesn’t think he’s come to terms with the prospect of a future that’s predictable and laid down in stone for him. Either way, he wants her back. He knows at least, no matter how self-important he feels most days, that’s at least something he won’t ask of her. Not when he’s still so muddled in his head. 

He still lets himself slip though, just a bit. “I love you,” he tells her and his chest tightens even more. She’s no longer laughing but her face is still hidden from his view. 

Rickon picks himself up again and stares down at where he’s set her onto her back. She covers her face with her palms, not saying a word. 

“Lee?” 

He hears her sob and his jaw tightens. It’s easy enough for him to pull her hands away from where she hides her face. But when he does it, Lyanna sits up, struggling to fasten her dress up properly as tears stream down her face. 

Rickon sits up with her, heart beating at a deafening pace. He reaches out to her arm and she bats his hand away. He doesn’t care he still pulls her again, and her resolve is weak that after a few times she lets him, and he manages to get her back into his lap. 

“Lee, look at me please,” Rickon says, pushing her hair behind her ears and letting his thumbs wipe her wet cheeks. Lyanna meets his eyes, her wide brown eyes pooling with tears that continue to fall. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He can tell she’s unable to make any words, so he’s forced to watch her cry in his arms. Rickon puts his forehead to hers. He kisses her cheek, letting his heart sink when he tastes her tears on his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me.”

Lyanna puts her lips to his, not able to kiss him properly without breaking away. “Fuck, why do I still love you?” Lyanna asks, wiping her thumb over his lips. 

Her tears don’t stream down her face anymore but he sees the way her cheeks are pink from rubbing them away and he wipes the mascara that transferred to her skin. Rickon doesn’t know how to respond to her because he doesn’t know if he deserves to be loved after how he’s been. 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” 

Rickon at least knows why the only thing he can seem to say, because he knows he’s not lying. Lyanna gathers herself, wiping her face again. She doesn’t even spare him a glance as she gets off of his lap and tries to properly fix her dress. 

Lyanna silently slips into her shoes, not paying attention to him as he quickly buttons up his shirt as well and fixes his tie as best he can without a mirror. It’s when she’s making her way to the door that he grabs his blazer quickly and stops her. 

“Lee—“ Rickon calls, grabbing onto her arm.

“What is it?” She snaps, staring up at him with wavering fury, “What more do you want from me?” 

Rickon feels his throat close up and no amount of swallowing will help the way it feels blocked. Her jaw clenches and she’s searching his eyes. He straightens his posture and pushes his hair back, somewhat exasperated by her question. 

“I don’t know… I just can’t seem to let you go,” he says quietly.

Lyanna doesn’t say another word, leaving him standing alone in his father’s office as she exits through the door. He doesn’t stop her that last time. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading  
> lots of love,  
> [fineosaur](https://fineosaur.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
